


dead connection now

by erintoknow



Series: Aria [6]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Coming Out, Found Family, Gen, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 18:31:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20050612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erintoknow/pseuds/erintoknow
Summary: When you first moved to Los Diablos, Chelsea, you hoped for a fresh start. A new life. Didn't quite get that. Alex has been nothing but a new surprise every week since she appeared in your life. A decent kid if maybe a little messed up. You can emphasize with that.If you could just give her the support she needs – the kind you never got – it''ll all work out, right?





	dead connection now

**Author's Note:**

> [[Spying by JENNIE VEE]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BNfx67hfjaA)

**Tuesday – Afternoon**

“You think everybody has a secret life.”

“That’s because everybody does.”

“I don’t.”

Alex has been nothing but a new surprise every week in the two years since she showed up in your life like a lost kitten. What was her life like before running into her on that bus? Before the night she showed up at your door, crying, covered in blood, and high as a kite? You don’t want to imagine, and she’s never offered to share.

But if God’s calling on you to provide a refuge, then you’ll do the best you can. Pray it’s enough. Maybe Saint Peter will take it into account when it’s your time before the Pearly Gates. The Lord knows you’re no stranger to trauma.

Alex turns her head to look at you, the movement a little too smooth. “What do you do for a living?”

You frown, pull a handful of her hair out away from her head, scissors in your other hand. “There is a difference…” You line up the cut, “between ‘secret’ and what _you_ personally don’t need to worry about.” Snip, snip. You let the hair fall to the towel on the kitchen floor and then gather the next strand of hair in your hands.

“Who’s Jaun?”

“Shit!” You jerk your hand back, cutting their hair at a sharp angle.

“Chelsea?” Alex looks at you with worried eyes. “Are you in trouble?”

You take a breath and put the scissors down on the table. Your thoughts are running at a mile a minute. Calm down. Empty out. Think of something else. Kittens playing with yarn. “How do you know about Jaun?”

Alex breaks eye contact to stare down at the hair clippings laying on the ground. “I heard on the phone.”

You narrow your eyes. “You can speak German?”

“Yeah.” Alex’s eyes dart away for a second, guilty. “Well. I know a little. Enough to get by?”

You sigh, the lack of sleep hitting you all at once. “Whatever you think you heard… Just forget about it. It’s my problem not yours.”

“But–”

You regather her hair in your hand, pulling it straight, focusing on how best to recover from screwing up the cut. “You don’t need to worry about me, chickadee.”

* * *

**Wednesday – Evening**

You grip the handle of your pistol, finger off the trigger. “Jesus Christ, _Alex_?”

The cloaked and hooded figure in the black and teal skinsuit stares at you from across the warehouse floor. A trio of bleeding bodies laying on the ground around them. Their head tilts. “…Chelsea?” Something in the mask is pitching her voice up, but it’s definitely Alex under there.

“What in God’s name are you doing here?” You drop the hand holding the pistol to your side. “Are the Rangers involved in this?” A dozen possibilities run through your head, all of them awful.

Alex shakes her head, expression unreadable under that full face mask. “I was just… on patrol.” An obvious lie. She takes a step towards you, and you step back.“Chelsea…” Her voice is weak, uncertain. “What are _you_ doing here?”

You take a breath, grab the table shelving beside you for support. “I told you not worry about my job.”

“This is your _Job_?” Alex, no, Sidestep, takes another step towards you. She looks ready to rush you. To do what, you wonder? “This– this is a joke, right? You’re here against– against your will, aren’t you?”

Your grin is brittle, you don’t let go of the pistol. “I’m just an average schmo, looking for their next meal, kiddo. Like everyone else here.” You gesture lamely at yourself with your free hand. “Ta-da.”

Sidestep rushes at you, and you brace yourself for the punch. Let the gun in your hand hang at your side. Can’t bring yourself to let it go. Can’t bring yourself to use it. She reaches you and – shoves you to the side, on to the floor.

A gunshot rapports, one, twice. Jesus! Your’s? The safety’s still on. What’s happening?

You roll onto your back, your shoulder screaming from having hit the cement floor, and– “Alex? Fuck, Alex, are you okay?” You heart freezes seeing Alex standing over you, left hand clutching her right shoulder. You didn’t know it was possible to feel this afraid for another person.

You follow Alex’s gaze to the man in the pink Hawaiian shirt standing in the doorway of the accounting office, a deep scowl on his face and a pistol pointed at the two of you. Christ. “_Jaun_? Jaun what the fuck are you doing?” You yell, wide-eyed. Was he shooting at _you?_

Jaun gaze shifts from Alex to you, “Don’t talk to me again, Becker, you fucking snitch.” He cocks his gun. “Won’t miss this time.”

Alex’s stance shifts, and then _something_ happens and it feels like you physically can’t look away from Sidestep. She pushes off to the side before Jaun fires, the bullet wizzing over you through now empty air. Sidestep throws out their left hand to the shelving beside them and bounces off instead of crashing. Jaun tries to follow and fires again but the shot goes wide into one of the cardboard boxes on the shelf. You know you must be losing your mind because you could swear you hear some pop song playing.

Sidestep shifts their stance and slides past Jaun before pivoting and striking the man in the back of the neck, followed up with a kick to the back of his left knee. Jaun yells as he staggers forward, only to have Sidestep keep up the assault, pulling the man’s gun arm behind him until he drops the gun before shoving him face-first into the floor with a crack that makes you wince.

For a moment you’re afraid she’s going to keep beating Jaun. But when Jaun makes no effort to get up or even move, she steps back. You let out the breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding as you scramble to you feet. “Jesus fucking Christ Alex, are you okay?”

Sidestep, no, Alex turns to look at you. She flinches and grabs at her shoulder again. “Please don’t make me punch you too.”

You suddenly remember the gun in your hand and drop it to the ground like it was a live grenade. Disarmed, you run towards her. “How’s your shoulder? Fuck.”

Alex raises her free hand to ward you off. “It just… grazed. I got a little sloppy. Sorry.”

You grab your hair. “Sloppy?” You voice breaks. “_Fucking hell you are._” You knock her arm away and pull her towards you into a hug. She goes rigid but otherwise doesn’t resist. “You just saved my goddamn life, girl.”

Alex stands there, stiff as a mannequin with your arms around her. “I think I’m bleeding on you.”

* * *

**Wednesday – Night**

“Well, so much for this city…” You pull the blinds shut while Alex tosses their civilian clothing in a pile on the floor, leaving them in only their skinsuit. More bloody clothes. Lord, why do you insist on these trials? “You sit right on down there, let me take a look at you.”

“I’m fine, Chelsea.”

“Like the devil, you are. You don’t ‘walk’ off a gunshot.” You search through the kitchen cabinets, pursing your lips in a frown as you pull out the first aid kit.

“I told you, it just grazed.” Despite the bravado, Alex is still holding her injured shoulder, arm resting on the table as she sits in her chair, facing you.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself, Chickadee?” You pour some antiseptic onto a clean rag and lean in to wipe down the cuts on Alex’s face. Jesus. “You don’t want this. This isn’t a life, it’s a death sentence.”

Alex finches as you clean off a cut on her lip. “I made a difference today.” She looks you in the eyes as she says it, and you can feel the knot of guilt in your gut tighten.

You keep her gaze, steel yourself. “Did you? You beat up some guys until the Rangers came and took them to jail.” You pointedly neglect how she helped you get out before they arrived. “If you want to make a difference, there’s plenty of real, tangible, things you could do.”

Alex doesn’t back down. “I– I can do this. You saw me out there.”

You step back, twist the rag in your hands. “And I was worried sick the whole time. You’re still _young_ Alex. Get a boyfriend, stay up too late, sneak into the movies, go get drunk with your friends, whatever you want to do.” You can see a flicker of doubt in Alex’s eyes and it encourages you to press further. “Life is already too short, Chickadee, being some kind of hot shot vigilante isn’t a life, it’s a death sentence.” God. You never want to see someone shoot at Alex again. Put in danger by… by your own sins.

Alex finally looks away. Stares at the floor. “You kept telling me I should quit,” Her voice is low, “but I didn’t really think that you were–”

You step back. “That. That has nothing to do with this.”

“Why were you working with gangsters?”

“Honey…” You reach out for her hand, she freezes as you take it, but doesn’t pull away. “There just aren’t a lot of options for people like us –I mean– me. Family disowned me. Never finished school. But I can run numbers, so… I just kind of fell into it, and I was good at it, and it kept me out of the beds of weirdos.” You wince. “Usually.”

Alex still won’t look at you as you kneel down to stare at her face. “Why were you hiding it from me?”

“I didn’t want to get you involved in my problems, chickadee. I…” You bite your lip, think about how to phrase this. “I don’t know what happened to you. Before… you know. But I know I wanted better for you. I’m not too smart, and I can’t do much. But a safe place to sleep and a warm meal every night? Still better then I got. I could do that. Thought I could, anyway.” You blink your eyes, are you crying? Damnit.

Alex’s hand tightens around yours. “I just… I want to be something worthwhile. To… to justify still being here.”

You squeeze her hand hard. “You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone, you hear me? You are enough. The Lord knows it. Just as you are, you are enough.”

Alex squeezes your hand back, her shoulders shaking. Crying too, now. You wipe at your eyes with your free hand.

You try to smile. “Now. Will you let me look at that shoulder?”

“I…” Alex glances at you before shifting her focus back to the floor. “I should tell you something first.”

You bite your lip, worries flooding back. “I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me.”

“I–” Alex winces. “Well I– I mean, that’s to say that I–“

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears are running down Alex’s face now and you can feel your heart break. What the hell happened to this kid?

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.” Alex lets go if your hand to rub her eyes. “Maybe it’d be… easier just to show you.”

“Show me?” Confusion mixes with worry. Fear. “Alex? Show me what?”

“You… you wanted to look at my shoulder anyway so…”

* * *

**Thursday – Morning**

You swear you can hear the radio playing, flitting in and out of your awareness, but when you open your eyes there’s no music playing. Just the noise of the cars outside, the people in the rooms above and below. The hiss of something sizzling on the electric stove. You put a hand to your forehead as you sit up on the coach. You head is pounding. Across the floor and the coffee table there must be half a dozen empty beer bottles.

“Looks like somebody is up.”

You turn your head to the source of the voice. In the kitchen. Alex is pushing something around on a pan. Scrambled eggs? Since when can Alex cook? “Good… good morning chickadee.”

“Don’t call me that.” Her response is sharp and cold.

“Woah, I’m sorry.” Your head is killing you but you try to look contrite. “I didn’t know it bothered you.”

Alex doesn’t look in your direction but her expression softens a little. “It– it didn’t before.” She doesn’t offer any further explanation. Just stares at the pan in front of her as if vision alone could cook eggs.

“…okay?” You close your eyes, rub your head. “Lord, why are there all these bottles just out here.”

“You got drunk last night.” Alex lifts the pan off the stove, turning the knob off with the other hand before spooning out the eggs onto two separate plates. “Really drunk. Because of losing your job. At least now you have this thing in Atlanta to jump to, right?”

Atlanta job? That sounds… vaguely familiar. You groan as yesterday trickles back into your awareness like an untangling knot, and with it the spring of guilt. “_God_, Alex, I’m so, _so_ sorry you had to find out like that. I–”

Alex drops a plate and fork in front of you on the coffee table. You look at her as she takes a seat on the floor across from you. God she looks how you feel; her eyes are red and puffy, hair a mess. “You’re never made breakfast before.” Your thoughts feel foggy, stiff. All the beer? Drinking yourself into a stupor _does_ track with how you’ve handled disasters in the past. You’d hoped you were past that by now. Guess not.

Alex meets your look with a blank face. “Felt like it, I guess.” She holds her own plate up and gestures at yours. “Don’t let it get cold.”

You frown at that, but something else gets pulled to the top of your thoughts. “Jesus, I’m going to need to pack up whatever I can and get out of town before somebody blows my kneecaps off.”

“I could pr–” Alex starts to say then stops herself.

The agonized expression on her face makes your stomach twist, put your plate back down. “I can’t ask that of you, and I wouldn’t accept it if offered.”

“I know.” Alex winces and rolls their shoulder.

Worry twists your heart again. “Did you hurt your shoulder yesterday?”

She shakes her head. “No, no. I’m fine. Physically. Physically, I’m fine.”

You bite your lip and lean in, searching her face. Something doesn’t seem right. “You sure?”

“It’s _fine_.” She meets your gaze with a confused expression of her own. “Why aren’t you mad at me? You’re supposed to be mad at me now.”

You blink, taken aback. “What?”

“I– I just ruined your life.”

You rub your forehead, there’s that headache pulsing again. “I ruined my own life, sweetheart. I can’t be mad at you for that.”

“Well– well you’re a liar!” Alex shoots up from the floor, dropping her uneaten breakfast on the coffee table. She looks at you, face of anger you’ve never seen her wear, tears streaming from her eyes and you shrink back into the couch, cowed. “You’re a liar and a hypocrite! I– I– I– hope I never see you again.”

“Alex–”

“So go! Get- get out of this dumb city then! See if I care!”

“Alex! What’s gotten into you?” You stand up at reach out to her only to get your hand slapped away. Hard. “Ow! What the hell Alex?!”

“I’m leaving!” Alex storms past the kitchen to the apartment door. “I h-h-hope I never see you again, Chelsea.” She yanks the door open and then slams it shut behind her.

You let yourself slowly sink back down to the couch, mind racing. You rub your wrist, still smarting from where she hit you. “What the hell…?” There’s something wet on your cheek and you touch your hand to your face and realize your crying. A sharp pain twists in your gut as you double over, sobbing.

You fucked up.

Somehow you fucked this up.

What happened last night?

Is this about the Atlanta thing?

You don’t know.

You can’t remember.

* * *

**Coda:**

**Monday – Evening**

When John Carpenter exits the stairwell into the hallway he closes his eyes and offers a quick prayer. There’s the source of the noise complaint alright. The gay kid slumped against an apartment door that had been staying with the drug dealer or whatever the woman was. Guess she didn’t tell her buddy she was skipping town.

John makes a point of walking loudly down the hallway, but the kid doesn’t have the decency to look up at him. At least they’re not wailing right now. Would have made this awkward. “Com’on kid. You’re bothering people.”

The kid doesn’t look up at him. Says something under their breath that John can’t hear.

“Don’t make me get the cops kid. It’ll be embarrassing for the both of us.” The kid keeps mumbling. John rolls his eyes and squats down. “Com’on kid, on your feet, your sugar mama’s gone buddy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah well, sorry doesn’t pay rent, so…”

“I got scared. I messed up.” The kid pulls their knees to their chest, hugging themself. “I messed up. I shouldn’t have done it.”

John scratches his nose, he really ought to just call the cops. Let them deal with whatever the fresh hell this mess is. But… something pulls at him, some small, rusty, part of his heart. “Look… kid. Kid, you have a name?”

“Ari–“ They stop themselves, wince. “Alex. Alex Becker.”

“Uh-huh.” John frowns, “You have somewhere to go, Alex?”

The kid shakes their head.

John sighs, not the answer he was hoping for. “Alright, well.. if you need a place to stay, I guess I can let you have the room until I get a –paying– tenet.” He fishes through his belt for the right key.

“I don’t deserve this.”

“No. You don’t.” John finds the right key and slips it off, dropping it in the kids lap. “So, don’t make me regret this.”

“Thank you.”


End file.
